


Requiescat Short

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-11
Updated: 2005-02-11
Packaged: 2018-11-10 13:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray's favorite phrase (probably) drops out of his vocabulary for a while.





	Requiescat Short

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Requiescat Short

## Requiescat Short

  
by Blue Champagne  


Author's Notes: Liked this idea, but couldn't make it fit into the story, so turned it into a short. Ouila.

* * *

Suddenly there was an unholy crash, a shout, and thuds and screams, the latter sounding like they came from detective Vecchio and the shout possibly from constable Fraser. Turnbull rolled to his feet, which were protected this evening by the detachable feet of his footie pajamas with the sled dog and snowdrift print, and bolted for the bedroom. The door crashed open to reveal--not much, since evidently one of the crashes had been the bedside lamp getting knocked over.  
  
"Fraser--" Detective Vecchio was gasping, "Frase--"  
  
"Oooh," Fraser moaned from somewhere floorward, and Turnbull quickly flipped the light on; he damn near flipped it back off just as quickly when it revealed the detective, bare as an egg, covering his eyes with both hands and kicking both feet feebly in the air. "Aiigh!" he flinched in response to the sudden illumination.  
  
But Constable Fraser had yet to be found, though there weren't many places he could be; the groan had come from the other side of the bed. Turnbull zipped around to that side and found his superior on the floor, also naked, holding one hand to his ear, or, rather, to the general area over the ear. "Sir! What--never mind, just let me see."  
  
Fraser submitted to Turnbull's prying his fingers from his head long enough to see the reddened, slowly raising area above and a little to the front of Fraser's ear. "Oh, my goodness. What on earth--um, why don't I get some ice, sir. Can you make it to the bathroom all right?"  
  
"Perhaps you'd better..." Turnbull wrapped his arm around Fraser's, on Fraser's uninjured side, and steadied him to the bathroom as they heard the detective scrambling up in the background. "Fraser, man, I am sorry, I swear, I really am sorry, I just--it was dark, and--"  
  
"Ray, it's all right, I know it was an accident, now just please shut up," Fraser murmured, the other hand also against his forehead.  
  
"Um yeah," Ray said, very fast and quiet, his head dropping to stare at his bare toes.   
  
"If you could--" Ray took over holding Fraser stable while Turnbull went about procuring ice, a towel, and a Ziploc baggie. He was back in seconds, saying "You'll have to unsquinch the eye, sir; I know the light is unpleasant, but...there we go...how bad does it feel?"  
  
"Not good."  
  
"I'm sorry," Ray whimpered again, very quietly.   
  
"We know, Ray," came in quiet mountie stereo. Turnbull continued his gentle examination, saying "If I may ask, sir...this blow, at this particular location...to have such force behind it..."  
  
"He kicked me in the head," Fraser sighed.   
  
"I'm sorry," Ray put in again.  
  
"He didn't mean to," Fraser explained further.  
  
"It was dark," Ray added. "I thought I was hooking it--um--my heel--I mean, the headboard--uh--"  
  
Turnbull was frowning. "You thought...you were...then you were...oh. *Oh*. Oh, dear. How...shocking. For both of you. Especially constable Fraser, of course."  
  
"He gonna be okay?" Ray said, with a sniff that sounded more like a real sniff than an attitude sniff.   
  
"He'll be fine, Ray," Turnbull said gently. "Fortunately, we happen to be well stocked with first aid supplies at the moment. If you'll just swallow these, sir..." Fraser accepted the ibuprofen without argument, waited for Turnbull to take the ice-filled towel from his temple for a second, swallowed the pills, then took the towel himself, holding it wincingly back up to the slow-spreading bruise.   
  
"It's not that severe," Turnbull said, "but the location will likely make it feel more pronounced. The area around the orbit and temple is very delicate; slight injury there can be as uncomfortable as more severe injury elsewhere on the head. Plus he may have a black eye from it--all those blood vessels...fortunately, there are any number of household accidents that could account for a bruise in that spot--having a heavy door swing to without getting out of the way in time would leave almost exactly that mark, as I can unfortunately tell you from experience. Since, ahm, I'm--" he snorted, paused with a hand over his mouth, and got himself under control again before continuing "I assume you won't be, ahm..."  
  
"No, no--up with rainbow power and all that stuff but we ain't sayin' about why Frase's head's got a lump about the size and shape of my heel on it. The door of the bakery around the corner can take the blame."  
  
"And Diefenbaker certainly makes frequent visits there unsurprising. The Constable can just say he got caught up explaining something to one of us."  
  
"And now that all that's been decided," Fraser put in sourly, "could I perhaps go back to bed? It's drafty, and I'm afraid, Ray, that my mood's been killed for the evening anyway."  
  
"Oh, no--I mean, yeah, I mean--come on, we'll go to bed and you can lie down; maybe it won't be so nasty in the morning."  
  
"You should elevate the head of the bed," Turnbull called, watching their naked persons vanish back into the bedroom. "It will keep the swelling in his head from being so marked in the morning. But block the bed legs, don't prop the constable. That leads to neck strain, which is something he doesn't need at the moment."  
  
"Of course. Thank you, Turnbull..."  
  
Dief muttered to him and glanced up to hear his reply as Turnbull put away the first-aid things he'd dug out.   
  
"Hm? Oh, no, I honestly *don't* have any idea what they'd do without us. It's apparently all they can do to...well, you know." He headed back for his bedroll, got himself and Heathcliff comfortable, and felt Dief's warm length along his back, along with a muttered goodnight from the wolf.  
  
"Goodnight, Diefenbaker." He sighed, then heard Dief giggle. This set off a chain reaction until a suspiciously loud, irritated noise in some blurry version of Detective Kowalski's voice shut them both up quick.   
  


  
 

* * *

End Requiescat Short by Blue Champagne 

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